


Bernieclipse

by TheAnnoyingAlien



Series: Vampire AU I Guess [2]
Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Frenemies, Half-Vampires, Human/Vampire Relationship, Innuendo, M/M, Twilight References, Vampire Bites, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-29 05:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12624663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAnnoyingAlien/pseuds/TheAnnoyingAlien
Summary: The evening before the first presidential debate Donald Trump finds that an old acquaintance of his has made his way into his hotel room, leading to banter about blood oranges and bad movies.





	Bernieclipse

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't originally planning on writing a sequel to that dumbass vampire crack fic but here we are. I hope you find this ridiculous story amusing.

“Hello again, my Blood Orange.”

Donald’s eyes jutted open and he promptly sat up, spying the silhouetted figure of a man looming over the foot of his bed. Though he couldn’t see the man’s features in the darkness of his suite he recognized all too well the voice that had disturbed his slumber, and his cheeks flushed in a mixture of excitement and annoyance as he envisioned the face that went with the voice. Wispy white hair, crimson eyes slightly obscured by a pair of glasses, a set of fangs ending in delicate points-Donald knew him, knew what he was here for, and was extremely insulted by the nickname the other had bestowed upon him. His brows furrowed, his mouth formed a small pout, and though he could not see his expression in this shroud of darkness he sensed that the other was staring back at him, sporting a fanged grin at the reaction he had provoked.

“I told you to stop calling me that.” Donald muttered. “Keep it up and I’m gonna start calling you Edward Cullen.” He reached over to flick on the lamp atop his bedside table, illuminating the hotel room and the guest in a soft glow. The guest, floating a few feet above the end of the bed, was none other than Bernie Sanders: senator, vampire, and Trump’s lover. If Bernie had been wearing a grin it was gone now, replaced by a sour grimace. Trump flashed his smuggest smile and crossed his arms in triumph, knowing that his retort had gotten to his guest. Bernie hated Twilight with a burning passion.

“Call me that and I’m gonna switch from Blood Orange to Bella Swan,” The senator hissed, baring his fangs in a way that was meant to warn the Republican, “Are you going to let me into bed with you or not?”

“I’d prefer Bella Swan to Blood Orange, Nosferatu,” Trump smirked, “And I’ll let you in if you quit with your flying. You know how much it freaks me out when you do that.” Bernie rolled his eyes and floated down until his feet touched the floor. He sauntered over to the side of the bed, placing one hand upon the mattress and letting the other rest upon his hip as he gazed down at Trump.

“I think Blood Orange is a much better nickname than Bella Swan,” He mused, studying the other man, “It suits you.” Trump raised an eyebrow at him.

“Why is that, Dracula?” He asked as he scooted over and pulled the covers aside. He gestured to the spot next to himself, inviting Bernie to join him in bed.

“Simple: You’re orange and you’re full of blood,” Bernie explained, disappearing beneath the sheets, “Extremely delicious blood, I might add.” He sidled up to Trump, spooning him from behind and slipping his hands up underneath his pajama shirt. He nuzzled the Republican’s neck, and Trump got the hint, immediately proceeding to undo the buttons on his shirt. He shrugged it off and cast it aside on the floor, leaving his upper body exposed to his vampiric paramour. Bernie’s fingers ghosted over his neck, brushing the same familiar spot of skin he always seemed to bite, and Trump trembled under his touch.

“I don’t think Blood Orange is fitting at all,” He grumbled, still irritated by the nickname, “In fact, here’s a better thing for you to call me: Mister President.”

“You really think you’ll win?” Bernie snorted with laughter. “Oh, that’s rich!” He pressed his lips to Trump’s neck, peppering gentle kisses across the expanse of exposed skin. He had hoped that this would be distracting enough to steer the Republican’s thoughts away from the election for the time being, but it wasn’t.

“Course I’ll win,” Trump huffed indignantly, “Wanna bet on it?”

“Fine, I’ll humor you, let’s bet on it,” Bernie said between a kiss, “How about this: If you lose you let me personally shred all your copies of the Twilight novels while you watch.”

“Alright,” Trump agreed, “And if I win then you have to watch the entire Twilight saga with me. Agreed?” He let out a soft yelp as he felt Bernie’s fangs pierce his skin, sinking into his neck in a way and a place he was so accustomed to now, and as the vampire began to drink Trump went pleasantly limp in his embrace.

“Agreed,” Bernie replied, lifting his mouth from the other man’s neck once he had had his fill, “Kiss your novels goodbye, my Blood Orange.” He leaned in and lapped up the last few trickles of blood from the bite, bringing color to Trump’s cheeks.

“Shut up and kiss me.” The Republican demanded gruffly. Bernie did just that, their mouths meeting for the first but certainly not the last time that evening. Trump reached over to flick off the light, the rest of their clothes were cast away, and they made love in the dark. When they finished they laid together in the quiet of the night, Trump resting his head upon Bernie’s chest, arms wound snugly around his waist.

“Remember what you told me the first morning after we were together?” The vampire murmured, disturbing the silence, “You said it was a onetime thing, said you didn’t want to hook up anymore in the future. Oh how things have changed, now you’re not only sleeping with me on a regular basis but with your running mate too! You really get around, don’t you Donald?” Trump pouted, not at all amused by this teasing.

“Hey! Mike came on to me first and one thing led to another, I didn’t start it!” He corrected his lover, “Besides, you’re one to talk! You keep going on and on about all your young fans practically throwing themselves at you!”

“Like I said, their blood isn’t the only thing they want me to suck.” Bernie chuckled.

“Why all these young men and women want your old grandpa ass so much I’ll never know,” Trump groaned, “Hell, I don’t even know why I want you so much! You really piss me the fuck off, but I… I don’t know… when you’re not rambling about politics or shitting on Twilight I actually kinda like having you around, I guess. You can be a smug asshole sometimes, but it’s… exciting.”

“Why, Donald, I’m touched,” Bernie replied sarcastically, “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it!” Trump quipped, failing to pick up on the sarcasm. Bernie kissed his forehead and grinned, flashing his fangs.

“I won’t.”

“Hmph… you know, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Trump announced, “You never did tell me who the vampire drinking from Crooked Hillary is, and I want to know.” Ever since Bernie had informed him that a vampire was feasting upon his opponent’s blood he’d been curious about that vampire’s identity. He’d been trying to piece it together on his own without success, and the fact that he knew vampires could conceal themselves from their human cohorts by taking a human form-another bit of information provided courtesy of Bernie-wasn’t making it any easier. All of Crooked Hillary’s closest associates looked entirely human in Trump’s eyes, and although Bernie, being a vampire himself, could sense other vampires’ true forms hidden behind their human masks he staunchly refused to say anything on the matter.

“I’m not giving you any hints,” The senator maintained, “I can tell you that it isn’t me, but that’s it.”

“Aw come on! I swear I’m not gonna use it against her,” Trump promised, “She’s got dirt on me, she knows you and I hooked up back in California after the primaries and I think she might be on to what Mike and I have been doing too, if I blabbed about who was drinking from her she could come right back at me!” The one positive thing Trump would bring himself to say about his opponent was that while she had knowledge of his and Bernie’s California tryst she had not used it against either of them. Trump winced when he thought back to how they had been caught by her the morning after, and he was thankful that that was the extent of what she knew about them, that in her eyes it appeared they had only had a one night stand and been done with things. Bernie pondered Trump’s reasoning for a moment, debating whether or not he should name Hillary’s vampire.

“You’ve actually made a good point for once,” He finally conceded, “I guess I could tell you. If anything, it’ll get you to stop badgering me about it.”

“Well, out with it then!” Trump demanded, “Who’s the vampire drinking from her?”

“She’s married to him.” Bernie revealed.

“Ha! So she’s not only a crook, she’s a bigamist too!” Trump cackled, “She’s shacking up with Bill and a creature of the night! Oh, if only I could go public about this, this would be a tremendous help to my campaign! Do you think Bill knows about her secret vampire lover?”

“She’s not a bigamist, you idiot!” Bernie berated him. “Bill’s the vampire she’s married to!”

“Oh.” Trump laid there in silence for a moment as the implications of that revelation began to invade his thoughts. “Wait a minute, they have a kid right? Did she age really fast? Is she a vampire too? Because when Edward and Bella had Renesmee-”

“No, that’s not how it works in real life,” Bernie sighed, stopping Trump before he could go off on another tangent about his books, “Vampires age at the same rate as humans, so a vampire and human having a child isn’t going to affect how the child ages. And when it comes to appearances a vampire and human’s child looks and acts mostly human; all children of vampires and humans have fangs inherited from the vampire parent, and some can have the red eyes as well, but none of them drink blood. They can also take on a human form like the vampire parent and possess some of the powers a full blooded-no pun intended-vampire has, although which ones and how many they end up having varies with the child. Some can fly while others can’t, some have superior strength while others don’t, it’s purely random.”

“I know you’re trying to be all educational,” Said Trump, “But all I can think about is that birth scene from Breaking Dawn. Almost makes me feel bad for Crooked Hillary.” Bernie let out an annoyed groan.

“That’s not how it works either,” He clarified, “A human can give birth to a child fathered by a vampire just as safely and normally as they’d give birth to a child fathered by another human. I would imagine that it’s a great deal more uncomfortable for the mother when the baby kicks if one of the vampire powers the baby has is the strength, but there’s no having to drink blood, no looking like a half-dead skeleton during the pregnancy, none of that Twilight bullshit. Why is it that every time I meet up with you it ends up going from a hookup to another lesson on how vampires work?”

“I’m curious,” Trump defended, “Also you’re like the only vampire I know of aside from Crooked Hillary’s husband, and I’m certainly not gonna invite him beneath the sheets with me!”

“Google exists, you know, and it’s free.” Bernie muttered, untangling himself from Trump’s embrace and rising from the bed. Trump watched as the senator collected his clothes and began to redress.

“Yeah, but I like you much better than Google,” He replied, “Where are you going? Don’t you want to stay and cuddle some more?”

“I can’t stay any longer,” Bernie told him, “I have to get back to Washington to continue my senate work. Besides, you need to be well rested for your debate tomorrow and you’re not going to get any sleep if I’m here keeping you awake.”

“Oh…” Trump mumbled, a hint of sadness in his voice, “Well, can I get a kiss goodbye then?” Bernie rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help but grin a bit in spite of himself. He sauntered back over to the bed, crouching a bit so his face was level with Trump’s. He ran his fingers through the other man’s mane of feathery blonde locks, scarlet eyes meeting with blue ones, and leaned in to plant a parting kiss upon the Republican’s lips.

“Until next time, my Blood Orange.” He murmured, and with that he disappeared into the night.

The following morning Hillary Clinton was enjoying breakfast by the hotel’s poolside with her daughter Chelsea. Chelsea left briefly to go get some more food from the café while Hillary remained seated in her lounge chair, sipping her coffee and reading the morning paper.

“Vampire fucker.” She suddenly heard an all too familiar voice whisper into her ear. Casting a glance over her shoulder she was met with the unpleasant sight of a dripping wet Trump looming over her, fresh from the pool and clad only in a pair of bright red Make America Great Again swim trunks. Hillary regarded him for a moment, shrugged, and turned back to her paper.

“I’ve been called worse,” She replied, “You know, Donald, I wasn’t aware that you were continuing to see Bernie. I thought you two parted ways for good after whatever happened between you in California.” Trump was shocked; Hillary had caught them together that one time, but he had assumed that that was the extent of what she knew of his and Bernie’s relationship. The fact that she knew more than that alarmed him; just how much had she discovered?

“Did that bloodsucking son of a bitch tell you?” He snapped at her. “How the fuck did you find out?” Hillary grinned knowingly and tapped her finger against the side of her neck.

“Your neck,” She informed him, “Like a hickey, the vampire’s bite tells all.” Trump touched his fingertips to his neck, feeling the marks Bernie’s fangs had left. He blushed and grabbed a towel off a nearby rack, hastily draping it around his shoulders to hide the bite.

“Shit!” He cursed, “He sure screwed me in both senses of the word! He bit my neck knowing full well I’d have to go on TV for the debate tonight! You got any makeup I could borrow to hide it?”

“Sorry, I’m afraid my foundation isn’t your shade,” Hillary smirked, “Perhaps you should ask someone from Jersey Shore instead.”

“Ha ha very funny, as if I haven’t heard people poking fun at my tan before,” Trump scoffed, “Really though, how do I hide this?”

“You’ll be fine as long as you’re not planning to show up to the debate shirtless-and I sincerely hope you aren’t for mine and the audience’s sake,” Said Hillary, “The bite’s low enough on your neck that your shirt collar should cover it. A word of advice, though-next time don’t let him bite you the night before you have to go on TV. I never let Bill nip at me before TV appearances.”

“Mom, what’s he doing here?” Hillary heard someone say. She and Trump glanced in the direction of the voice, only to see that it was Chelsea, who had returned with a plate of food.

“It’s none of your business, Renesmee!” Trump snapped. “Go hang out with Jacob or something!”

“What does Twilight have to do with anything?” Chelsea asked, clearly perplexed by his reply.

“He knows about your father,” Hillary told her, “And he knows about Sanders too. Sanders has been drinking from him, telling him things, and apparently sleeping with him as well.”

“Oh great, now your kid knows too!” Trump moaned in frustration. Then, turning to Chelsea, he gave her the most menacing glare he could manage in his flustered state and hissed, “You better keep your mouth shut about this, Renesmee!” Chelsea responded with a smug grin, revealing a small pair of pointed fangs to Trump, indisputable proof of her vampiric paternity.

“There’s no need for hostility; I’m not planning on telling anyone,” She assured him, “But there is something I would like to ask you.” Trump raised an eyebrow at her.

“What is it?” He grumbled, growing impatient with the Clinton women.

“Has Bernie told you about the werewolves yet?”

“Werewolves?!” Trump sputtered. “What the fuck, werewolves are real?!” Bernie had never said anything to him about that!

“Oh yes,” Chelsea confirmed, still sporting that impish, fanged grin, “See Senator Kaine over there?” She nodded towards another set of lounge chairs further down the poolside, where her mother’s running mate was relaxing with a book. Upon noticing her staring in his direction Tim smiled and gave a friendly wave, which Chelsea and Hillary returned, but Trump turned his nose up at.

“What does that sad little harmonica man have to do with werewolves?” He sneered.

“He’s a pretty unassuming guy,” Chelsea continued, “He looks just like your average American dad, right? Well, that’s just a façade, and he uses that apparent normality to his advantage, he uses it to help conceal his true self. There are tons of werewolves in our country, as well as in our government, and Tim just so happens to be one of them.” Trump was frightened by this revelation, but still found enough resolve within himself to come back with a rude comment.

“Oh, I’m sure your dad just loves that if Twilight is anything to go by!” He exclaimed. “Is Kaine lusting after your mother? Is he the Jacob to your dad’s Edward?”

“No, he and my mom are nothing more than friends, and there’s no animosity between him and my dad,” Chelsea clarified, “But Senator Sanders is your Edward, so Governor Pence must be your Jacob.”

“Holy shit, Mike’s a werewolf!?” Trump cried. “Also, when and how the fuck did you find out about him and I?”

“A couple nights ago,” Chelsea revealed, “The walls in this hotel are thin, Trump, and one of you is really loud in bed. I bet the whole fourth floor knows what and who you’ve been doing.” Trump’s cheeks flushed.

“That wasn’t me!” He insisted. “It was Mike! He just can’t seem to keep his mouth shut when he’s filling mine…” Hillary grimaced at the crude innuendo.

“Well that’s certainly a delightful image to envision over my breakfast,” She scoffed sarcastically, “Now I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Anyways,” Chelsea went on, “As I was saying, Pence is a werewolf, and so is Tim. I’m not surprised you didn’t notice-werewolves, like vampires, usually take on a human form to blend in with humans and avoid frightening them, and like vampires they can normally switch from their human form to their true form at will. But just as a vampire starts to lose control of their ability to maintain their human form when their bloodlust gets out of hand, the presence of the full moon causes werewolves to lose it.”

“Well then,” Said Trump, “I guess it’s a good thing I’ve never met up with Mikey during a full moon!”

“It’s a good thing indeed, I don’t think you could handle him in his werewolf form,” Chelsea agreed, “Then again, like vampires, some people find werewolves sexy. I don’t understand the appeal myself, but a lot of people enjoy being the object of a werewolf’s feral, beastly passion.”

“Feral, beastly passion you say?” Trump repeated, intrigued. “Hmmm… you know, maybe I could handle that. I think I’m gonna go have a talk with Mike, I’m interested in arranging a ‘campaign-related meeting’ during the next full moon, heh heh!” With that Trump wandered off to search the hotel for his running mate, leaving the Clinton women in peace.

“Really, Chelsea? Werewolves?” Hillary scolded her daughter once he was out of earshot, “Tim and Pence aren’t werewolves! Hell, werewolves aren’t even real!” Chelsea sat back down in her lounge chair, crossing one leg over the other and folding her arms behind her head. She was still wearing that mischievous grin of hers, so much like that of her father.

“Yeah, but Trump doesn’t know that.” She chuckled. Hillary sighed and pressed her fingertips to her brow, shaking her head in dismay.

“This election is still so fucking insane.” She muttered to herself.

The End


End file.
